Swan Song
by AlcoHoliday
Summary: What do you get when you cross Bleach with Memoirs of a Geisha?
1. Prologue

**Swan Song**

by Alcoholiday

**Disclaimer: **Tite Kubo owns all things Bleach and Arthur Golden with _Memoirs of a Geisha_. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's note:** This is my first ever written fanfiction. I was inspired by Arthur Golden's _Memoirs of a Geisha_ and thought it would be interesting to build a story around it with Bleach characters. Comments are deeply appreciated and would help heaps. Thanks for reading.

* * *

**Prologue**

Tonight, the chill shower of rain felt odd on her skin. Colder than it should on a beautiful night like this. If she remembered well, the _shigatsu_ moon had poured over celestial torrents of light on the _Inuzuri_ River and lit the beleaguered village a brilliant, lustrous glow. But the cold carried a weight that did not feel right.

She pulled her favorite cloak tighter around her small shoulders as their canoe passed nameless places and faces against the steady wind. She could hear distant chatter of conversations across the bank as people retreated towards refuge away from the pour. Her eyes stung from the cold spray that bounced off her cloak hood creating a fine mist of water that hung on one strand of hair falling between her furrowed brows. Why was she here? Never had she travelled so far from the mountains of _Rukongai_. There was just no need before.

Confused, she hoped to find her answer in those familiar grey eyes that glittered silver against the reflected moonlight. Her little hands found the familiar curve of another pair and she decided that it did not matter as long as they were together.

As the cruise began to ebb, a series of events flashed by without so much of a word uttered. Out of nowhere, a crushing weight of a dark figure suddenly pulled her against its own; knocking the wind out of her tiny body. It felt as if the entire night sky had fallen and embraced her small frame. With such force, she could have confused the two. Her throat went dry; her limbs could not move, and her grasp slipped from the warmth of home.

The weight of the night had finally caught up and threatened to pull her deeper into its cruel blackness. Every cell in her body paralyzed by a new fear she did not recognize. To herself, her body seemed to weigh twice what it was but like a rag doll, she was hoisted and carried away into the darkness of the 78th district. Every bone in her body cried out in pain but all she felt was the slow, throbbing ache that eclipsed her consciousness.

In the growing distance, she watched the canoe slowly row away.

_Okasan…_


	2. Nariko

**Chapter one:** Nariko

* * *

"Rukia! Where is that filthy, unthankful rat?" A raspy voice terrorized the small house.

She recognized that voice all too well. The second she heard her name being called, her spine jolted upright, every strand of hair standing on its end. Rukia immediately stopped in her step and laid down the broom she was using to sweep the front yard of leaves and dirt. She ran into the house, using her memory to guide her feet towards the loud and horrible voice. Making an effort to brace herself for what was to come, she swallowed the lump that had found its way to her throat.

"RUKIA!" The voice bellowed once more.

Rukia found Nariko standing in the middle of the enclosed space they called a kitchen, holding a boiling pot in her hands. She quickly smoothed down her hair and straightened her rag of a kimono before stepping into the threshold.

"Yes, Nariko-sama?" She trembled. Nariko's glowering eyes met hers in an instant. When Nariko had that look on her face, Rukia immediately knew that she was in trouble. The stepmother she had come to know had little patience for mistakes and slip-ups, especially from Rukia. It hadn't been an easy life since her new mother had taken her in but she was still grateful for the roof Nariko-sama had provided over their heads. Rukia couldn't be better off if it wasn't for Nariko, even if the woman had a heart colder than ice. Nariko's face was etched with wrinkles, her teeth – which protruded awkwardly out of her mouth – were yellow and stained from the tobacco she often smokes and her black hair was tainted with hints of gray. But it wasn't her stepmother's looks that terrified her; it was her raging temper at the girl's expense.

"What is this?"

This was Nariko's favorite game. One that she never tires from playing over and over. She will ask Rukia a million rhetorical questions, with no right answer to any, and insist that Rukia responds regardless. It was obviously a boiling pot in the woman's hands so Rukia stated so.

"This is no longer a boiling pot. This is now a piece of junk. Do you know why, Rukia?" Nariko said through gritted teeth, waving the pot close to Rukia's face.

"No, Nariko-sama." Rukia did not dare to look Nariko in the eye.

"It has a crack, you imbecile! Now water will leak and we will not be able to boil rice! And whose fault is that? Who is the one that damaged the pot I paid good money for and has now rendered me hungry?"

Rukia knew how the crack happened. Nariko was intoxicated with _sake _last night, coming home with another random man she did not recognize. They were going at it all night and were clumsily knocking things over. Rukia couldn't sleep with all the racket going on, but she knew better than to make a sound. She knew better than to even twitch, for she would get a merciless beating with the large bamboo stick her stepmother always kept at arm's reach. So Rukia quietly laid on her futon, trying to block out their labored moans and the clings and clangs of objects falling to the floor. The next morning, Rukia had to clean up after her promiscuous stepmother. She tried to mend as many broken things as best as she could, because she knew that she would be blamed for all of it.

"Me," she whispered, even though every cell in her body ached from the injustice. Her eyes were downcast and her palms were sweating. Rukia anticipated her punishment. Just then, her head was met with a blow that had taken the air of out her lungs; her ears were ringing from the fierce pain. For a moment, she wasn't sure what had happened but she knew it did not matter even after the daze was starting to fade. She found herself lying on the floor with the boiling pot next to her face, spinning in a dance as if it was to mock her.

"You better go out and find me some food, you little bitch. I don't care how you do it, but by noon I want to eat or you will get a beating." With that, Nariko pulled Rukia by her kimono sleeve and dragged her emaciated body out the door. Passersby in front of the house stopped in their tracks to watch her get thrown out of the house. Her kimono had gathered to her waist, exposing the lower part of her body. She pushed herself up and straightened her kimono, her face burned red with humiliation as she felt the stares puncturing holes in her body.

Rukia went on her way.

–––

The loud hustle and bustle of the streets of the 78th district polluted the air. Hawkers were running their business, people were making their way up and down the avenue and children were cavorting in the streets, playfully tagging each other. Everything was oddly mesmerizing to Rukia. She barely sees the outside of the house because Nariko was ashamed to let Rukia's existence be known by the public. You see, Nariko was once a popular socialite in this part of _Rukongai_ but her inclination to gambling and drinking made her fall from grace quick and swift. However, she never failed to remind those lesser than herself who she used to be, Rukia included.

An hour had passed as Rukia wandered the streets to find an opportunity to swipe some _onigiri _from various hawker stalls. She scoured for an opening but business was seemingly good today and there were too many people to make a clean break.

"Just my luck," she whispered to herself. "How am I supposed to find food for Nariko-sama?"

She was exhausted with the sun beating her down and walking around endlessly took too much time. The later she got home, the longer the beating she would have to endure. Rukia's shadow had grown shorter which meant she didn't have much longer until noonday. She hastened her step and grew frantic as more and more people flooded the streets. Her wandering finally brought her to a dead end between a pawn shop and the district's fortune-teller. She slumped hopelessly against the moss-ridden stone wall as she watched the world go by.

As noon came around, Rukia couldn't stand to be under the sun's abuse any longer. Shakily, she rose to her feet and walked towards a leaky drain pipe to take a sip of water. _I'm ready._ She turned and moved in a steady pace, one foot after another, and broke into a full-blown sprint. She used the crowds and her height to her advantage, pushing her way through the spaces between them. People could hardly notice little Rukia as she went to every stall, snatching what she could and hid it inside her robe.

To her demise, her luck ran out as quick as it came. Panic rose to her throat when one of the hawkers caught her pawing on one of his fresh-cooked _onigiri_.

"What the hell are you doing, you thieving bitch?" He yelled, swinging his knife in her direction. Fear paralyzed her body but she managed to duck in time while swiping the triangular rice ball with a shaky hand.

"HEY! WHERE DO YOU–"

Then she ran. Rukia fled to where her feet took her, stumbling on every nook and pebble on the pavement, the frenzied beating of her heart rose to her ears as the hawker neared her in his pursuit. Gripping the food tightly to her chest, she willed her short legs forward, her eyes scanning the streets for a safe passage to take.

_Faster!_

The faces around her blurred as they flit by her peripheral vision. People were making way for the frenetic child with food spilling out of her robe and Rukia couldn't be more thankful. Her pursuer's shouts grew fainter as she made a final veer off to the left and sprinted down the courtyard. The only thing her mind could register was to run and run faster.

–––

Amber clouds dissipated in the sky as the sun retreated behind the distant mountains of _Rukongai_. Rukia crept into her house with her blistered feet, panting from the marathon she had just run. She body trembled from the ache of her tired muscles. Assuming her stepmother was asleep, she quietly placed the stolen food on a small wooden table.

"It's already sundown! What were you doing? Whoring around?" Nariko appeared in the doorway, thumping the bamboo stick on her other hand in rhythm to her voice.

Rukia's breath hitched and her eyes widened like full moons. She immediately dropped to the floor and bowed her head so low she could smell the earth creeping through the wooden crevices beneath the foundation.

"Nariko-sama, please, I wasn't–"

A strong, sharp pain struck her across the back, as if thunder and fire were fiercely crashing between her shoulder blades.

"This–" another mighty blow forced Rukia's limp body to the ground, "is for starving me!" the stepmother yelled. She couldn't stop the strangled cry that tore from her throat. The sound was so pained and foreign to her ears, Rukia couldn't register it as her own.

"And this is for whoring around! I can't have a whore living in my house!" she added as another struck her down. Rukia wailed ever so loudly, the loudest she had ever cried. But she didn't care. She could feel Nariko's eyes glaring down at her beaten body, lips thinned with satisfaction. She resented her stepmother and she resented herself even more. Was she nothing more than a slave destined to be punished for eternity?

"Nariko-sama…" She pleaded between labored breaths. Her back burned with welts from the bamboo – it was tearing her flesh apart. Rukia cried out, her body unable to tolerate the pain, her heart unable to contain her hurt.

"You want to cry, you little slut?" Nariko stomped into the kitchen. Just then, Rukia made a silent plea to the gods, if there were any, to be merciful and take her life right there. Death was bliss compared to what was to come.

She felt her kimono rip from her body, her burning skin raw to the cold breeze of the night. She could tell that it was nighttime because the crickets outside were chirping in ode to the sun's departure. Rukia felt the salt slowly burn and inch its way deeper into her wounds, tearing her skin open to a new hell. A loud wail escaped from her dry lips, a sound so dreadful; it would bring anyone to their knees.

"Look at you lying on the ground like a pathetic animal. What a nuisance. This is the last time you will inconvenience me, girl," the stepmother spat, and then pulled Rukia by the collar so that she could face the whimpering child. "You hear me?"

Nariko gave a final kick to the side of her ribs before marching to the table and throwing the stolen food in the girl's direction. "Dinner," Nariko said in a cruel tone. "As if I would eat food fouled by your filthy hands, please. I have you know that I have already eaten even before you stepped into my house. That's right, _my_ house. You do not live here anymore, Rukia."

The ringing in her ears made listening a feat but Rukia did not need to hear what her stepmother had said – because the look on her face said it all. Nariko stepped over the scattered rice on the floor and left to her room without a word. Rukia mustered all her strength to pick herself up and drag her feet to her futon. She laid there with her knees tucked to her chin, still naked and still bare, choking back tears. She was careful to do so in silence fearing that it would fuel Nariko-sama's ire.

–––

"How much do you want?"

"I assure you that she's worth more than _that_."

"But she's just a child. And a _girl_! What business can I make with her?"

"I don't care!"

Rukia laid on her stomach, lost between wake and sleep. Her body was still sore from the beating but her eyes managed to settle on two shadows behind the kitchen door. There was a big commotion coming from that direction that piqued her interest. She struggled to listen but could not hear what was going on – only two strained voices that spoke. One was the familiar shrill of Nariko-sama and the other was a stranger's but it belonged to a man. She thought to herself, "She must have had too much _sake _to drink again," before falling into another slumber.

–––

Rukia felt her collar being tugged, forcing her off the futon and onto her wobbly feet. She was disoriented but managed to gather her ability to speak. "What's going on?" she asked to no one in particular. Blinking hard, Rukia tried to shake the sleep from her eyes. She could hear horses neighing from outside the house. _No, it was Nariko-sama's house now. And what were horses–_

A hard shove to the same spot her ribs were kicked made Rukia jolt awake, wailing in pain.

"Come on! Get up, you disgrace!" Nariko ordered. To the woman's side, Rukia caught sight of a man peculiarly tall and narrow. She figured that he might be the face of the voice arguing with Nariko before. The man stared into her fearful eyes. Was it displeasure in his eyes? Or was it guilt? She could not tell which.

"Nariko-san, there is no need to–"

"GET. UP."

Rukia made an effort to rise but her weak arms gave way to her weight. The man sighed and placed a firm grip on Rukia's arm to pull her up. He gave Nariko-sama a curt nod and led the girl into a hooded carriage. She knew better than to struggle against his hold because this man was strong. He was gruff but the strength was not in his physique. He was a man that radiated authority you did not want to disobey. Rukia climbed onto the carriage and slid to the far side of the seat, away from the narrow man. She was careful not to lean back against her wounds that were still stinging her skin.

"We can leave," he ordered to the driver as he climbed in after her. Rukia took a mental photograph of the man before her. He was wearing a plain kimono with a pair of _hakama_ that hung above his ankles when he sat – pronouncing his height she had noticed earlier at Nariko-sama's house. His skin was leathery and glowed white against the moonlight. The black hair on his head did nothing if not amplify how pale he looked. It was not as dark as her own but it was slicked back and barely moved an inch as the carriage began to pull away from her former residence. His face was the most intriguing; it would have looked as if he was bored or tired if you had not dwelled longer to decipher his expression. His eyebrows were thick and drooping at the sides with a deep indentation between them. His eyes–

"Your name is Rukia, is it not?" he asked. Rukia quickly jerked her head to look away. _He must have noticed me staring – but his face was focused forward the entire time._

"What do you want?" She feigned bravery.

"Why don't we take a look at you? It is only fair after you took your time gawking at myself." he said calmly. "Look at me," the man demanded in a voice that expected no objections. Rukia raised her head but her eyes remained glued to her hands resting on her knees.

"You have got a beautiful face, little Rukia." He said as he pushed Rukia's untidy hair out of her face – closing the space she had created between them. She turned marble to the man's bony fingers upon her skin – not a glint of emotion showed on her countenance.

"Where are we going?" she demanded. The sound of her voice only wavered for a second, her confidence was slowly solidifying.

"Your new home." He smiled at her.

The moment the words escaped his lips, her head snapped back to the little house that was now fading into the horizon.

"Nariko-sama…"

Rain began to pitter-patter on the hood of the carriage, as if the sky orchestrated this setting just like that one night at the _Inuzuri_ River long ago. Rukia had remembered it too well – the full _shigatsu_ moon, the dark shadow of night, the last time she'd ever saw her mother, her _okasan_. She waited for the familiar sinking feeling she felt every night it rained and like always, it felt the exact same every single time. She had honestly thought that time would decay the intensity of the pain but how silly Rukia had thought she was ever blessed with that sort of luck.

They had traveled far and it was too dark for her to adjust her bearings. So she settled with watching the strange man sway left and right from the uneven gravel under the veil of her black hair.

_Should I fear what has to come?_

Uncertainty hangs heavy on her shoulders, wearing her down. The tears that she tried to keep at bay began to well in her eyes; a shock wave assaulted her heart – the same raw, white pain beating in her windpipe.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	3. Red

**Chapter two:** Red

* * *

Many cold winters had passed since Nariko sent Rukia away. She was handed over from one relative to another, with none ever really taking her in. Minutes felt like hours, days felt like years and everything seemed to have disillusioned into raw confusion and uncertainty. Rukia had learnt that she could never truly belong anywhere. Her expressions held no gravity to her emotions, and somewhere along the way, she had lost herself under the countless facades she plastered on her face.

Some days, Rukia would lie on the cold floor in the dead of the night, dreaming that one day someone would grant her sovereign to her own will, and free her from the despair that plagued her heavy heart. She would picture herself strolling through an open field – the cool breeze kissing her face and body, the tickling warmth of the sun bathing her heart with pure content. She would be free from back-breaking labors – which she carries out in the account of others, only to get nothing as a return – and would do as she so well pleased; no one to tell her otherwise. Her body was a withering shell that struggled to encase the roaring tempest crashing on her weary soul. All she had ever wanted was a sense of peace within her; a reminder of what it was like to actually smile for a reason.

It was as if her body lived in two worlds – this world and a world of her distant dreams – teetering dangerously between both. But that's the problem with dreams. It is like a burning flame, blazing its path with fevered desire. Too big a flame, and it would consume you completely.

The occasional slam of a screen door nearby would disrupt Rukia's silent lucidity, sucking her back into reality. The sinking feeling never failed to cripple her every time, like it had birthed a deep hole, puncturing her chest. The ragged edges of the chasm would slowly corrode, threatening to exscind her organs from the inside. But there she would lay, fighting the hurt away – her body curling inwards into a fetal position, pulling her knees to her shoulders – but the numbness she clambered for seemed far beyond reach.

And despite the pain, Rukia knew would survive it. She was aware, of the violent ache that radiated through her limbs and chest, but she would endure it. She had grown strong enough to bear it.

On one particular evening, as the orange sun sank between two frosted hills, Rukia sat at the edge of an elevated porch of yet another "auntie's" house – relishing in the stunning view of the twilit sky. At that moment, who she was, and what lived for, did not matter. Even the people surrounding her orbit held no consequence or purpose. They had all become a blur of nameless faces, and vapid individuals she had no use for. Overgrown weeds tickled her bare legs as she swung them back and forth. Her soul had been calm today, and her head was swirling dizzily from the rare tranquility.

From a distance, Rukia heard the panting of a person she hadn't seen before. Not a lot of people traveled along this remote stretch of road. _How odd_, she thought to herself. _And at this time of day_? The crunching sound of footsteps on the gravel came to a halt, and a creaky rickshaw pulled up at the front gate. The man huffed a weary sigh, and set the poles of the rickshaw down on the ground. He collapsed on the seat of the two-wheeler – his short legs sprawling out in front of him – and wiped the sweat from his forehead with an arm. Rukia raced towards the man to greet him, curious of his visit here. As she neared the rickshaw, she noticed that he was picking on his oversized teeth. _Oh, gross_.

Rukia bowed before the visitor, as she had been trained before. "Could I assist you in anything, sir?"

"Are you Rukia?" the man asked. His cheeks rose awkwardly to his ears, which she thought was strange, but then realized that he was actually smiling at her.

"Yes, sir."

The man's face lit up instantly, and he sprung off the seat to his full height. His exuberance had jostled Rukia, causing her to shuffle a foot behind her stance. "Come with me please!" He gestured with his big meaty hands. Her wide eyes followed his stubby fingers – that looked more like overstuffed sausages – wriggling in her direction.

"My sincerest apologies, sir, but I must consult the lady of the house before leaving the premises." Rukia lifted her gaze, but stopped up to his chin. She dared not look any higher.

"Ah… well, that isn't necessary. Just come with me. Mimiji-san has already instructed me to pick you up," he grunted, scratching at his graying beard.

"Anyway, have you gathered your belongings, Rukia-chan?" In the way he had addressed Rukia, she felt a brief warmness that she gratefully welcomed. She was hardly ever regarded as 'Rukia' around here. She was more accustomed to 'girl' or 'child', as if there was no point to her name. Then again, why would there be? She was just a mere servant child.

The girl opened her mouth to protest, as she had nothing with her, but then remembered that that was exactly all she had. Nothing. She came into this house with nothing but the clothes on her back.

The man watched her gather her thoughts. "Well?" he prodded.

"Yes, sir. I have everything I need," she told him. For a moment, Rickshaw-san furrowed his thick brows at Rukia, staring at her long and hard, curious about her lack of luggage. Aware that his staring was starting discomfort the girl, he allowed his face to morph into the nonchalant expression he had arrived with.

"Well then, come along. It's almost sundown and the roads are a pain to travel in the dark." Rickshaw-san clasped his big hands together then motioned to pick up the poles on the ground. Rukia followed behind; feeling completely unsure of herself. So many times had she been escorted from house to house that she found no valid reason to inquire about their destination. She went where the wind took her – like a lone cherry blossom petal floating with the breeze – all the while knowing that she will end up unwanted everywhere by everyone regardless.

–––

Rickshaw-san kept stealing glances at his tiny passenger behind him. Rukia had looked uneasy and made no effort to hide it since getting on the rickshaw. Every few seconds, she would fidget around or twiddle with anything within her field of view. One moment she would be smoothing down her robe, and the next she would be picking on the stray fabric of the seat.

"You know, my passengers are usually quite talkative." Rickshaw-san broke the silence to no avail. He let out a heaving sigh. Rukia only glanced at him for a moment before returning her attention to her twiddling fingers. The vacant dismissal in her manner compelled him to continue on talking.

"Ah, don't worry, Rukia-chan. Where you're going is a great place. There will be many children your age living with you. You will be staying with Kenta-san for the time being. He is the town's most successful fisherman," Rickshaw-san said in an upbeat tone.

A smile appeared on Rukia's face; enthusiasm lit her eyes. To know that children her age are to be her company was truly a delight. For years, she had only tended to middle-aged men and noisy housewives barking orders at her, merely for the sake of showboating their authority.

"Thank you," Rukia finally spoke.

"Nah. It's nice to see you smile. When rain threatens the sky, a little sunshine would make the grey clouds run and hide."

She let out a tiny giggle at that. _Corny, but they were kind words nonetheless_.

–––

The journey had been brief. Rickshaw-san finally pulled up in front of a large wooden cottage. There were large stone steps leading up to the doorway, with an arch standing over the entrance. It had letterings etched on the panel, but Rukia couldn't make out the calligraphy. The yard was decorated elaborately, with trees bearing fruit in the spirit of harvest time and blooming flowers that paved the grass in a cluster of rainbow-colored speckles. The air hinted the smell of a freshly-cut lawn and faint traces of mid-spring pollen.

"Am I going to live here?" Her eyes gleamed in excitement.

"It would seem so, Rukia-chan."

She jumped off the rickshaw as prompt for her arrival. "Thanks again, Rickshaw-san." Rukia grinned – the wide smile exposing all of her white teeth.

"Don't mention it. Be good now." The man patted her hair, and waved goodbye.

As she stepped through the front gate, her steps were awkward and hesitant, and her eyes barely adjusting to the unfamiliar grounds. She stood out in the darkness, uncertain of what to do. From behind, she could hear the rickshaw pulling away.

_Should I knock? Or wait till someone comes out?_

Right on cue, a young girl burst through the front door with a wooden bucket in one hand and a stick in another. From what Rukia could discern – with only the moonlight aiding her sight – she was tall, and donned a leaf-green kimono with tinges of color here and there. The girl was muttering something under her breath – completely unaware of the small stranger standing in the yard. A beige obi hugged her mid-riff. She had her long blond hair knotted in a tight bun behind her head, with a few loose strands framing her tanned, tired face.

Rukia straightened her posture and smoothed down her robe as she anticipated a greeting.

"HEY! No beggars!" The girl suddenly cried out, dropping the wooden bucket to her feet. The loud bellow startled Rukia, causing her to freeze from the sharp sound. The blonde started to march towards her in long, aggravated steps – her large hazel eyes glowering straight at Rukia.

_Is she talking to me?_ She glanced around. There was not a soul within sight.

"I told you people not to come around here anymore!" She was swinging a branch at Rukia.

"No, wait. I think you have been mistaken. I–"

"What's your business here?" They were now inches apart, with the girl towering over Rukia, and a branch aimed directly at her neck.

"I'm looking for Kenta-san." Rukia stared cross-eyed at the wooden stick tilting her head backwards. _What if I'm at the wrong place?_

"_What _for?" The stick pushed deeper at her throat.

"I… I don't know. I was sent here." Rukia could not have said anything more that could convince the girl – that she was no street rat trying to take advantage of them – because she wasn't even sure herself. It was difficult to see in the dark but the light seeping through the front door that was left ajar was growing brighter. A young boy stepped out, wearing nothing but a pair of loose _hakama_.

"Yo, Megumi-chan! Where's the water?" he yelled from a distance. The girl, whom Rukia figured was Megumi, paid no attention to the boy. He casually saunters up to them.

"Eh, who's this?" His eyes did a quick scan of Rukia from behind Megumi's shoulder.

"My name is Rukia. Is Kenta-san home?" she answered; voice straining from the stick pointed at her.

"Ah, so you're the new girl." The boy exclaimed, moving to take the branch away from Megumi's hold.

"What new girl?" Megumi snapped her head to him, swinging the stick at the boy as he swiftly ducked his head from the sudden assault.

"Woah, watch where you swing that thing! You could've taken an eye out!" The boy quickly snatched the branch from Megumi's grasp. Propping himself with the wooden stick, he motioned to massage the back of his neck.

"Ken-san adopted her. She's a pretty one." He not-so-subtly winked at her direction. Rukia felt her face color.

"Why was I not informed that we are having a new sibling?" I'm never told anything in this stupid house!" Megumi whined, and then stomped back towards the empty bucket, kicking a pebble on her way there.

"Ah, don't pay any attention to her. She makes such a big deal about the littlest thing." The boy told Rukia. "C'mon, new girl. Ken-san is not in right now. He's hardly ever home but I'll show you around." He took her by the wrist and led her inside the house. Rukia, wide-eyed and lethargic from the travel, let herself follow his lead. Megumi was left fuming outside as she picked up the wooden bucket and filled it with water from a nearby well, grumbling a string of colorful profanities.

–––

The night was still young but the house was as quiet as a graveyard. Although the residence looked large from the outside, it was rather cluttered on the inside – with many furniture and knick-knacks lining the walls and floor – giving the impression of a smaller space.

Rukia let her eyes wander the dimly lit hall, taking in the surroundings as she took one small step after another.

"Don't worry, everyone is upstairs sleeping. They like to turn in early. Come, I'll show you around." He leads her up the wooden stairs, its floor boards creaking against their weight. The ascend was short and had brought them to a corridor that ended with an open window far ahead.

"This…" the boy gestured to a door to his right, "…is Ken-san's room. No one, and I mean, _no one,_ is allowed to enter," he voice suddenly grave. "But you wouldn't wanna go in there anyway. The place stinks of _old_," he sniggered, dropping the serious expression from his face.

They stood in the corridor. The awkward silence they both had tried to avoid finally fell upon the space.

"So…" The boy – still half-naked – rocked back and forth on his heels.

"I didn't get your name." Rukia said politely, peering up from the strands of her hair. He had been kind enough to show her around, and she was grateful.

"Jinru."

"Thank you, Jinru-kun, for showing me around." She bowed.

Jinru frowned. "Hey, hey. There's none of that bowing stuff 'round here," he told her. "It was nothing, really," he said with a smile, then placed a hand on Rukia's arm. She felt her breath hasten from the contact.

"You shouldn't be touching girls like that, y'know." Megumi's voice startled the both of them. Jinru threw his hands in the air, mocking a surrendering pose.

"Your bath is ready. New girl, come with me." Megumi beckoned the Rukia with a wave. She led her to a screen door down the passage, and slid it open. Inside was a bedroom with two futons and a couple of drawers and cupboards. Rukia noticed that the one nearest to the window had already been occupied.

"We'll be sharing a room," Megumi stated matter-of-factly. "Where are your things?"

"I don't have any," Rukia said, her eyes downcast. Megumi merely shrugged and walked silently to the corner of the room. She bent over a large wardrobe and produced a bundle of cloth from one of the drawers.

"You can have this. It's too small for me anyway." She placed the pile on Rukia's tiny hands. Under the candle light, she noticed a lavender-colored kimono with large amethyst-colored petals delicately embroidered on it, and a white _nagajuban _folded neatly underneath. Both were made of simple cotton, and though it wasn't the grandest kimono in 78th district, Rukia has never owned anything so elegant in her life.

"Thank you, Megumi-kun."

"Don't mention it." She patted Rukia on the head. Megumi turned to leave, not wanting to hover as Rukia settled in for the night.

When Rukia went to bed, the household hadn't anticipated her arrival and did not prepare an extra futon for her, so she had to sleep on the floor with a thick blanket as her make-shift mattress. But she didn't mind. She clutched her kimono close to her chest, as if it had been made of the finest gold. It was the most beautiful thing she ever owned and she could not wait to put it on first thing in the morning. The people here had been so kind to her; it was a perplexing notion – both foreign and pleasant at the same time. Her heart was brimming with content, so warm and full that she could hardly find sleep. From her window, she noticed that the stars were out tonight, a cluster of diamonds twinkling in her favor. Rukia closed her eyes – a part of her wanted desperately to stay awake, to feel this way forever – but eventually her body succumbed into a deep, fulfilling slumber.

–––

The next morning, Rukia woke to the sound of footsteps stomping on the floorboards outside her door. The sunrise had crept its way through the windowsills, bathing the room in a rich, golden glow. Rukia furiously rubbed her face, adjusting her eyes to the brightness of day. As she looked around the room, she could see both futons were already left vacant.

_Shit. _She overslept.

She fumbled to her feet, picking her kimono off the floor. While she was hastily folding her blanket, a loud voice startled her backwards. It sounded like it belonged to Megumi.

Rukia hurriedly placed the neatly folded blanket back into one of the cupboards. Glancing around to make sure she was alone, she then turned to gaze at her new kimono she held up at arm's length. Setting it down on the bed nearby, her heart skipped at the sight of the finely tailored cloth – her fingers trailed along the fabric, feeling every thread and seam on her fingertips – she couldn't wait to put it on.

The _nagajuban _felt sheer and soft as it grazed her arms. She inserted her arms into both sleeves of the purple kimono, crossing it delicately over her chest. As she arched her back to tie the kimono belt around her tiny waist, she glanced sideways at the mirror. A soft gasp escaped her lips, she could hardly recognize herself in something so beautiful.

Then came the _obi_. The item of clothing looked simple enough to put on, but the long, aubergine cloth just wouldn't wrap around her the way she had wanted it to. She looked like a dumpling – a swollen purple dumpling.

"Argh! How does this damn thing work?" she grumbled to herself, wrestling with the _obi_ once more. _Great, I'm already late as–_

"Rukia-chaaaaan!" The screen door slid open with a loud slam, startling Rukia from her battle with the _obi_. Rukia snapped her head at the high-pitched voice, but her arms were tied in a confounded mess of silk. The _obi_ had looked like an overgrown snake trying to devour her small form.

"Oh my goodness! What in the world are you doing?" The girl placed her tray of tea and rice balls down on the floor before running to Rukia's aid, working to stifle her giggling.

"I never wore a kimono before, so I don't know how to tie this." Rukia raised her arms into a 'T' as her new acquaintance worked around her expertly.

"There…" the girl tied a final knot behind Rukia's back, "… you go. Perfect!" She took a step backwards to critique her work. "You look wonderful." The girl nodded, utterly satisfied with herself.

"Thank you," Rukia said, grateful for both the help and the compliment.

"I'm Chizu. Megumi-neesan told me you arrived last night. Too bad I was asleep though."

"Hi, Chizu-kun" Rukia stood there in her new kimono, unsure what else to say to the strange, mousy-haired girl. She tucked her hair neatly behind her ear.

"Oh right! I brought you breakfast!" Chizu picked up the tray off the floor and set it in front of her new housemate. Awestruck, Rukia could only stare at the mounds of food stacked on the tray. Breakfast made for her.

"You don't like it?" Chizu lowered her shoulders, just a little.

"No, no!" Rukia was alarmed at her words, she didn't mean for her silence to be disapproving. "It's just… I never had anyone make me breakfast before. Thank you, Chizu-kun," said Rukia as she knelt to Chizu's side.

"Great! Let's eat." They sat cross-legged across each other with the tray in the middle.

"How old are you, Rukia-chan?" Chizu mumbled, swallowing her bite. Grains of rice stuck to her puckered mouth.

"Twelve." Rukia was clumsily picking at a morsel of fish with her chopsticks. "You?"

"I just turned thirteen last winter," she exclaimed proudly. "So, what happened to you?" Chizu's tone suddenly grew serious.

"What do you mean?" Rukia cocked a brow.

"Well, if Ken-san adopted you, it must mean that something happened to your family."

"My family…" Rukia's voice trailed off. Right then, Chizu wanted to take her words back. Appraising Rukia's distant expression, she figured she must have said something inappropriate. Suddenly, the screen door flew open. Jinru stood at the doorway, once again in nothing but his _hakama_. Both girls darted their attention to the half-dressed boy.

"Eh, Chizu-chan, Megumi wants you to go to the market. We're having grilled snapper for dinner tonight," Jinru told her.

"Excuse me, Rukia-chan," she said, apologizing with her eyes for their previous exchange and quickly rushed out of the room.

Last night, in the darkness, Rukia couldn't fully make out Jinru's features, only his height. Now with beams of light bleeding from every slit of the wooden paneled wall, she could see his dark blue hair, which grazed over his eyes, and his perfectly chiseled body. With a built like his, the boy must have been a couple of years older than her.

"What?" Jinru asked in surprise.

Realizing that she was rudely staring, she darted her gaze away. She could feel her face burn with embarrassment. Rukia quickly made herself busy with the finished breakfast and left the room, making sure not to make any eye-contact with Jinru on the way out the door. Halfway down the stairs, she heard Jinru let out a little laugh.

"Oh! Rukia-chan, I see you fit the kimono well," Megumi said, as Rukia stumbled into the kitchen. Her arms were elbow deep in a pail of dirty dishes. The room was a wet area with nothing but a rusty old oven and a cupboard that stored spices, condiments and ingredients usually found in a kitchen. Pots and pans that hung above the stove-top glinted in the sunlight pouring in from the bay window. Water was running from an open tap near where Megumi was squatting.

"Just leave the dishes over here." She gestured with her chin.

"Thanks, but I can do it," Rukia gently protested, walking towards the tap. "Want me to help with those?" she offered now, awfully guilty for waking up late.

"Don't worry about it. Do me a favor and make yourself familiar with the area. You can take over the chores tomorrow."

Rukia did not argue, she just nodded and placed the tray next to Megumi. She exited the kitchen into the hall she had entered from last night, positively thrilled to explore the new grounds she now called home.

–––

As midday came around, Rukia decided to take advantage of her off-day to walk the town. It was pleasantly temperate this afternoon, the townspeople had their umbrellas folded, rendering them useless on a fine day like this. From the street, she mimicked the slow pace of passersby walking along the stone-covered thoroughfare – her feet feeling light as feather. She could hear the jolly chattering of stall-owners and customers that lined the stretching avenue. As she strolled down the walkway, smells of well-prepared eats lingered in the air – each one as appetizing as the next – enticing anyone who passes with a ravenous appetite. The steady heartbeat of the town breathed a new kind of high for Rukia, and she blissfully welcomed the delirious intoxication.

Her mindless loitering brought her to a park filled with springing cherry blossom trees and wild berry bushes. There was blanket of fallen cherry blossoms that littered the crisp grass and more were fluttering in the gentle pulse of the wind. She neared a tree, reached out and climbed it effortlessly. She perched herself on a branch away from the warm sunlight, breathing in the balmy air around her. Out of nowhere, at the corner of her eye, something flittered – it sounded like a restless flapping or rustling – she was not sure what. Curious, Rukia turned around to see the tail of a red-crested cardinal.

Stealthily, she moved towards the tail with concentration deeply set in her eyes, every line in her body poised for a pounce. Just as her fingers brushed against its feathers, she had miscalculated her weight and lost her footing. She slipped from the wobbly branch and was sent plummeting down the tree. Instinctively, her flailing hands scrambled to grab whatever was closest as she fell. She suddenly got a firm hold of something, but it wasn't a branch, and judging from the weight of it, it wasn't the bird either. Rukia landed on the ground with a thud – the impact fluffing the grounded flower petals up and around her twisted body.

"OI!" came a booming voice above her head.

Rukia laid there, dazed and confused, shaking the stars that danced in her blurring vision. _The bird must have flown away_, she frowned at the thought. Her equilibrium was off; challenging her coherence, but it wasn't tilting as much anymore. Rukia pushed herself up to sit, rubbing her sore bum.

"What. The. HELL?" A boy stood over her, rubbing the back of his head.

"What?" She stood to match his height, but he was at least a head taller. Rukia was used to bullies like him – always picking on girls like herself.

"Whad'ya mean 'what'?" he said, mocking her tone. "You pulled me off that tree!" he yelled, jabbing at finger at the tree she had just fallen from.

"No, I did not!" _Red hair, seriously?_

"Baka na! You almost ripped my hair out!"

"How was I supposed to know what it was? Who the hell has red hair anyway?" she yelled over his voice, balling her tiny fists.

"Well, I do!" the red-haired boy threw his hands up in livid frustration. _Who did she think she was, goin' round pullin' on people's hair? Che! _he thought angrily to himself.

"Then don't sit in trees! People might think you're a bird or a flower or something."

"That's stupid!" He pointed at her angered, red face.

"You're stupid!"

"ARGH!" He turned and stomped away, leaving Rukia to boil in blind rage.

* * *

**To be continued.**


End file.
